


A Close Shave

by icedteainthebag



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura Roslin needs some shaving assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Close Shave

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** A Close Shave  
> **Author:** icedteainthebag  
> **Summary:** Laura Roslin needs some assistance.  
> **Spoilers:** none  
> **Pairing:** Laura/Bill  
> **Rating:** R/NC-17  
> **Word count:** 5410  
> **Notes:** I wrote this for dashakay, simply because she asked me. And because it's a hot idea.  
> **Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me, nor am I making any profit from playing around with them.

Living in space for two years running has many downfalls, some glaringly obvious--the lack of fresh fruit, recycled air, living like a pack of sardines in a tin can day in, day out--but some downfalls are less apparent, like the lack of contact lens fluid and the increasingly odoriferous complication of the deodorant shortage.

But what is disturbing Laura Roslin today, more than the slight smell of sweat under her dress shirt or the unavailability of a fresh pear, is that last week, she used her last disposable razor blade. The one she only came upon by visiting Dogville and trading half a bottle of her favorite perfume to a civvie. They were both so _desperate_ for these _things_ they thought they needed.

And, oh Gods, did it feel good, lathering up her leg with a minuscule amount of homemade soap and sliding that razor up the skin of her leg for the first time in weeks. She thinks she enjoyed it a little too much, but she was so thankful for the opportunity to have silky, smooth legs and other less noticeable areas of her body, so that she could get out of the pantsuits again and giggle in private at the looks Bill cast her way.

But now, now that razor was dull, so dull that she nicked herself three times in her attempt to use it. She'd thrown it against the wall and gone back down to Dogville with a delicate blue scarf she'd received from a band of Sagittarons when she banned abortion. Her face fell when her civvie razor trader said the last razor had disappeared well over a month ago.

She briefly debated asking Lee to commandeer a Raptor to take her to the Black Market, but the last time he'd taken her there, she'd been stuck there for hours as he tramped around. That would not do.

A flicker of an idea flitted through her mind as she walked the long hallway toward Bill's quarters--she always ended up wandering toward his quarters one way or another--when she realized that there was one man on this ship who was nearly always clean-shaven, unless he was in a moustache mood. She giggled at the mental image.

Bill would have her razor hook-up.

x x x x

"Laura," he says as he lets her in to his quarters. He's a bit surprised at her unannounced visit; normally, she gives him a call on the phone and they banter about this and that, and she gives him a fifteen-minute warning, during which he usually either touches himself thinking about her or has a stiff drink.

"Hello, Bill," she says expressly, her heels clicking past him. He shuts the door and watches her walk to his sofa and perch on the edge of it, her hands on her knees. She's wearing a pantsuit again and he is mildly disappointed, but tries not to show it. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything. Were you reading?"

Actually, he had been touching himself thinking about her right then, too. "Yes," he says, walking over to his rack and picking up a book on his shelf, hoping she doesn't notice how mussed his bed sheets are.

"More Caprican detective stories?" she asks, and he notices her fidgeting, tapping her fingers against her knees, and this is odd to him, because the President does not normally fidget. This is a sign of something.

"No," he says, walking over to her and handing her the book. "Actually, it's a triad strategy book. I plan on challenging Saul in the near future, and he's extremely skilled at the game."

She takes the book from his hands and glances down at it, then looks up at him. She bites her lip and takes a deep breath. "Do you have a razor, Bill?"

"A...razor? Of course I have a razor."

How the frak did she think he kept his face clean and professional-looking all the time?

"Oh," she says with a titter of laughter, gripping the book with both hands. "That's wonderful. Where do you get them? I'm having a hell of time finding one, actually, and I know that you must know where to get them."

"A razor. To shave with?" Bill asks, and he has a sudden vision of something he really shouldn't be envisioning regarding the President, a soapy lather and long, long legs. He clears his throat. "Well, unfortunately, I only have one. My father's straight razor. Works like a dream, just needs sharpening once in great while."

Laura giggles again and he realizes she is _blushing_. "Oh, yes, well, Bill, that's just fine. I thought I'd ask. You know, things are awfully hard to come by around here as of late--"

"Do you want to borrow it?" he asks, his heart fluttering a bit. Her eyebrows quickly go up and she smiles, running her fingers through her hair absentmindedly.

"Oh, Bill, that's not necessary, I mean..." she falters and she pulls at her hair again as she laughs. "It's your razor. I don't want to dull it."

He nearly opens his mouth and asks exactly how much hair she's talking about, that it would dull a straight razor, but he politely keeps his inquisition inside and gives a gentle nod toward the bathroom. "Go ahead. It's in there. And I have some shaving cream and a brush, if you're interested."

He watches her barely hide her glee. Her eyes dance and he's enamored, just a little, by her excitement over what used to be considered a simple, daily factor of their lives. How things change. "Oh, thank you so much. It won't take me long. I'll just...here, I'll just..."

Laura jumps up and hands him the book, then laughs and walks off toward his bathroom.

"It'll only take a few minutes," she says.

"Oh, you're planning on..." _doing it here_. He doesn't finish his sentence. He doesn't want to discourage her from using his bathroom to shave her legs. If she feels it's necessary, who is he to correct her? This and many justifications run through his mind as he watches her gently push the door closed.

x x x x

Bill Adama keeps good house, she thinks as she glances around the bathroom. She knows he can be obsessive about his cleanliness, both in his appearance and that of his quarters, and she makes a note to be sure to wipe up every last smudge of shaving cream.

She was a little taken aback when he offered his razor, though it didn't surprise her. Bill was a good, decent man, and would give the shirt off his back to someone truly in need.

She picks up the straight razor and watches it glint in the shaving mirror. It's sharp and perfect. She sighs, perhaps a little too dreamily and loudly for her current surroundings, and sheds her pants and top. She glances at the shower longingly, but for the sake of time and convenience, she decides to prop her foot up on the countertop and shave that way.

Laura takes the bottle of shaving soap and works it with water in the small shaving bowl with the brush until it's a rich lather. It smells like him, and she feels a little turned on by sliding his shaving brush across her calves and thighs. She wonders how long they'll actually smell like Bill after she's through.

She leans over slightly, taking a small whiff of the shaving cream again before she carefully slides the straight razor up the front of her leg. It feels exciting--it turns her on, running this edge so dangerously close to her skin.

x x x x

Bill would sit down, but he can't bring himself to stop pacing the living area as he thinks about Laura shaving her legs a mere ten feet away, behind a flimsy door. He thinks about her--is she naked? Is she enjoying herself? What exactly is she shaving, anyway?--and then he silently berates himself for having these unprofessional thoughts with her right there. They are usually reserved for times when she's not within earshot.

He hears a click and glances over to the bathroom--it's only been a few minutes and he's surprised and a little disappointed that she's finished already. But he realizes that the click was merely the slip of his badly sealed door, and the door has fallen open, a few inches at most, but his eyes travel the crack of the door, which gives him a perfect, unrestricted view of the president's shaving-cream covered calf, her foot up on his countertop, her toes twiddling as she hums.

_She's humming._ He takes a deep breath and tells himself to calm the frak down.

He watches as Laura's hand comes into view, holding the razor firmly, and she slides it up her skin slowly until it's out of his view again.

"Motherfrakker," Bill says under his breath, glancing over to his rack, to his door, to his bar, and then back at the door. He steps a little closer to the door, tilting his head to catch the reflection of the opposite side of her leg in his mirror.

She swipes at her leg again, still humming some tune he somewhat remembers from a summer concert on Caprica, one of those things you go to just to get toasted in public and there just happens to be music there.

He gets closer to the door, moving stealthily, a little to the left so he can see even more in the mirror. He can see her thigh now, covered in shaving cream, and he bites his lip and exhales slowly as she runs the razor over her skin again.

Suddenly, she stops humming. His breath catches in his throat and there's silence. He stands like a deer in headlights, staring at the door.

"Bill?" she asks.

He clears his throat. "Yes?"

He waits for her to speak. "Get in here and help me."

She starts humming again.

x x x x

Laura's heart is racing at the realization of what she's just done--invited the Admiral of the fleet to occupy his own bathroom with her, while she's half-covered in shaving cream, no less. She decides it's best not to think of any possible repercussions of this deviation from her normally professional behavior.

She sees his eyes in the mirror as he opens the door a little more. She adjusts herself, the bathroom cramped already, the door brushing against her side. She keeps her leg up on the counter and they watch each other's eyes in their reflection.

"Are you sure?" Bill asks, one foot on the bathroom tile.

She breathes two deep breaths. "Yes," she says, tilting her chin up slightly. "I could use some help. There are some hard-to-reach places."

His lips part and he falters a bit, yet slides through the crack in the door and shuts it firmly. "All right," he says, and finally breaks their gaze to look down at her legs. She has several paths made through the shaving cream, exposing stripes of soft skin. His eyes wander from her ankle upward until they stop at her abdomen. She blushes, then extends the razor to him with her shaking hand.

He takes it out of her hand and glances down at it.

"Have you ever shaved a woman before?" she asks.

They laugh. She's not sure if she laughs because she's uncomfortable or because this she's sure this is hands-down the sexiest action this bathroom has ever seen.

"No," he says. "But I've shaved my face. I assume it's about the same. I'll take it easy."

She feels a small flood of relief and she smiles, tilting her head at him. "All right. Thank you, Bill, for doing this."

"My pleasure," he says, in a bit of a growl. She laughs, but takes a few precious seconds to gain her breath back.

He stands next to her and places the razor against the inside of her ankle, pressing and sliding it up her calf slowly. She watches his hand as he smoothly travels up to the inside of her knee, then inches up the inside of her thigh. She shifts, parting her legs a little more, and gasps softly as his knuckles brush against her heated skin.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks immediately, looking up into her eyes. She blinks several times and shakes her head. She's quickly losing any ability to form a coherent sentence.

Bill begins his work in earnest now, sliding the razor through the shaving cream, and he begins running the pads of his fingers up every bare path that he makes. His fingers slide slowly over her smooth skin, from ankle to upper inside of her thigh.

"Just checking to make sure I got it all," he says, his voice low, and she feels herself start to throb at the sound of his voice and at the vicinity of his fingers to the small patch of fabric between her legs.

"You're doing a fabulous job," Laura says, nearly breathing it to him.

He smiles. She props up the other leg and he begins his work, meticulous and accurate, and he seems to be really _enjoying_ this, pulling that razor over her skin, teasing her with his fingers. And he seems to be running those fingers up higher each time he shaves a new part of her leg, and soon he lightly traces the line of her panties against her thigh before moving his hand away, a two or three-second tease that is driving her absolutely crazy.

"Does it feel better?" he asks, glancing up into her eyes. He doesn't look away this time.

"Yes," Laura says, and she feels her tongue tracing her upper lip and quickly looks away, blushing, telling herself to _stop thinking like that_.

"I'll just finish up here," he says, and she glances at her leg and sees he only has a few swipes left. He shaves another stripe, runs his fingers up her leg again, lingering between her legs longer than all of the other times, and he looks up into her eyes and she tries, desperately, of a way to keep this moment from ending.

One more swipe and Bill's finished, and he stands up straight, placing the razor on the counter.

"There," he says, and it nearly sounds like an announcement, like he's proud of having gotten through the whole thing without cutting her or...other things.

She opens her mouth to speak and forces her words. "You're not done yet."

He glances sideways at her with an arch of his brow. "I just finished."

She places her hand on his arm and takes a deep breath, looking deeply into his eyes.

"No, Bill. You're not done yet."

She drops her leg and pulls her panties down her legs. She stands back up, her hand on her hip, and bites her lower lip. Her toe begins to tap as they look into each others' eyes.

"Oh," he says. She can practically feel him dragging his eyes down her body until he discovers areas recently uncovered. He opens his mouth and she hears him stutter a bit. "There?"

"Mmmmh." She can't even say "Yes." She can only say "Mmmmh." She blushes.

"There's no room in here to do that," he says, still staring downward.

She laughs. "Oh, well then, don't worry about it."

His head rises sharply and he looks into her eyes, his blue eyes intense. "Get on the couch."

She's now officially having a hard time breathing.

x x x x

Bill can't quite remember a time when he was quite as turned on as he was after he ordered Laura to get on the couch. So he could shave her. The _rest_ of her.

And he knows she wants it, and that not only makes him aroused, but also instills in him a kind of boyish glee, one akin to receiving a new bicycle on your tenth birthday. With streamers on the handles.

She brings the bowl of shaving cream and the brush to the couch and sets them on the coffee table. He watches her walk, enjoying the view of her bare ass as she strides away.

She's carrying herself rather well considering the circumstances, he thinks as he walks toward her. She plops down on the couch, her knees together, and leans over to speak to him.

""Bill, are you sure you want to do this?" she asks.

"Who wouldn't?" he responds.

She laughs and gives him a look best described as admonishing, one he's seen a dozen times before, but this time, it's a little playful, a tad bit shy. This he likes. He sits down on the coffee table in front of her and looks at her. She's still sitting upright, prim and proper, wearing only her bra.

"You're going to have to lean back and...let me in there," he says.

"Let you in there," she repeats, arching her eyebrow. "My, my, Admiral. A little forward, aren't we?"

She smiles, seemingly satisfied at his slight blush, and settles back on the pillows. He watches as she scoots her bottom to the very edge of the couch before letting her legs fall apart a little. He doesn't look away from her eyes as she does this, and he hopes she doesn't look away from his, because he's currently hard as a rock and it's got to be fairly obvious.

"What are you waiting for?" she says softly, spreading her legs a little more. His eyes wander down her body and he fights to keep his jaw from falling slack.

He picks up the bowl and the brush, swirls up a lather, and tilts his head, wondering where exactly to start. Laughter again fills the air and he looks into her eyes again, and she's smiling at him. Grinning.

"Just do it," she says. "You won't hurt me, Bill."

"Oh no," he says, leaning in, placing his hand on her bare, warm thigh. "I won't hurt you at all."

x x x x

Laura watches him lean in and she's afraid her heart is going to literally beat itself out of her chest. He places his hand on her leg and it's electric, and it's just her _leg_.

She feels the brush graze over the soft patch of hair between her legs and she tilts her head back, eyes blinking, panting and looking toward the ceiling. She lets her feet slide on the carpet a little more, giving him more room to work. He presses the brush harder against her, swirling, and she can feel the liberal application of the shaving cream against her skin.

The more he swirls, the more it starts to tickle, and she bites her lip and rolls her eyes, her laugh coming out as a kind of choked-sounding giggle.

"You all right?" she hears him say from _down there_. She suddenly realizes more than ever what's going on when she hears his voice.

"Oh, yes, Bill, I'm just fine," she says airily, tapping her fingernails on the couch cushion. "Just...please be careful, okay?"

He laughs, a chuckle that makes her tingle in all the right places. "I'll take my time."

"Oh Gods," she breathes, and blushes when she realizes she said it out loud.

She feels the cold metal edge of the razor against her skin and her body twitches with a giggle. She looks down and he looks up at her at the same time, an amused look on his face.

"Now," he says, giving her his 'I mean business' face, "If you jump around like that, you're going to get hurt."

"I promise," she says, tilting her head and giving him a sheepish smile. "I promise I'll sit still."

"Good," he answers as his eyes drift between her legs again, and the expression on his face changes from bemused to intent. He's concentrating and she watches this time, feeling the razor slide slowly against sensitive skin, cold against hot.

She's incredibly turned on, but is actually more fascinated by how Bill is treating this seemingly as some sort of art project, delicately shaving here and there, his fingers separating her fold gently, sending waves of nervous pleasure from those points outward. He doesn't take his eyes away from his work, and she feels the razor glide over delicate curves.

"How's it going down there?" Laura asks, putting her hand on his the top of his head lightly. She threads her fingers through his hair and he tilts his head up to look her in the eyes.

"It's..." he chuckles and she covers her face with her hand, giggling again. "It's certainly an exotic experience. But I think I'm finished, actually."

"Exotic??" she peers at him through her spread fingers, grinning. "Bill, I know it may have been a little bit overgrown, but it's certainly not a jungle down there."

She feels him run his fingers softly down the cool, now exposed flesh between her legs and she shudders with a sharp gasp. Her hand falls to cover her mouth and she bites on her finger and keeps his gaze. His fingers trickle up and down, over and over, and she knows he's making her wet and that he's got to have noticed by now what he's doing to her, what he's been doing to her for longer than she's willing to admit.

"It looks good," he says, pressing his cheek against her knee, his fingers dawdling around her outer lips, teasing her incessantly.

"It feels good," she responds softly, stroking his scalp with her fingernails.

He doesn't look away as his fingers slide just inside her folds, stroking up and down slowly. "Soft," he whispers, his fingers sliding over her clit. Her hips buck gently to his caress as she moans.

"More," she breathes. She can barely hear herself speak.

x x x x

Laura Roslin just let him shave her pussy.

His life is pretty frakking good right now.

He hears her breathe her request for more when he starts circling his fingers over her clit--he's not sure how they ended up there and assumes they were just magnetically _pulled_ there somehow, seeking out the most direct way to make her make more of those little moans from deep in her throat.

"Hmmm," he says, feeling his cock throbbing pretty gods damn hard in his pants as his fingers slide down her inner folds. He's secretly memorizing the feel of them on his fingertips as they watch each other's eyes for any sort of reaction. She's staring at him and seems intently curious as to his next actions, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip.

He nudges his fingers inside of her, just an inch into her heat, and she whimpers and closes her eyes, pushing her hips into his hand. He slides them in a little further, turning his head to kiss the inside of her knee. She's so wet it's making his heart pound.

She moves her hips with him as he presses his palm against her cool, bare skin, grinding into her and dipping his fingers in and out in a slow rhythm. He gets the sudden urge to join her on the couch, to press his body against her side while he's feeling her this way, and so he does without leaving her unattended.

He presses his mouth to her neck, his hand nestled between her legs, and watches her face--brow knit, lips parted with short breath as she works a little harder against his hand.

She turns her head to look into his eyes and she kisses his cheek. Her moan is hot against his face as he grinds his fingers deeply into her.

"What are we doing?" she asks quietly, the words tickling his ear.

"What does it feel like we're doing?" he responds, a tingle falling down his body from head to toe.

She kisses his forehead, a long, lingering kiss, then pulls away from him and lies back on the couch, one leg on the floor. He looks at her body, long limbs splayed out gracefully, hair spread across one of his throw pillows, perfect in disarray. She has a slightly rounded tummy that leads to firm breasts, still snugly trapped in her bra.

She notices him looking at her chest and reaches around to unfasten and remove her bra. She tosses it across the room and smiles at him, a little triumphant. "Better?"

He nods, running his fingers down one of her legs. "Beautiful."

The flush spreads across her cheeks and her chest. "Thank you."

They look into each other's eyes for a long while--he's not questioning these steps they're taking, but wants to make sure everything's done in the right time, that he doesn't take things too quickly or too slowly.

It's like she reads his mind. "Come here," she whispers. "Out of your clothes."

He stands up and sheds his uniform, feeling her eyes on him as he removes his layers. When he's completely naked he tosses his tanks to the coffee table and sits back down next to her knees, placing his hand on her thigh.

"Mmmmm," she murmurs, pulling at his fingers with her hand. Her hands are soft--he realizes it's the first time he's paid attention to that, the silky texture of her skin. "Bill. Please."

He bends over, kissing her abdomen, then slides to his knees on the floor to kiss the insides of her thighs. He knows where he wants to go and makes quick work of getting there. He's waited too long.

x x x x

His mouth on her thigh sets her ablaze inside and she resists the urge to grab him by the hair and push his face into where she wants it the most, knowing he'll get there in his own good time. She can feel the flicks of his tongue all the way up to the juncture of her thigh and hip, then down over her newly shaven skin--she still can't believe she let him do that to her, but as quickly as she tells herself that, she actually can't believe they haven't done this already.

His tongue glides over the bare skin of her folds and a squeak escapes her lips as a jolt of electricity passes through her. She looks down and he's looking up at her, smiling against her as his tongue explores intricate, silken lines and spaces. It feels _amazing_.

"Mmmm," she murmurs, sliding one thigh over his shoulder, lifting her hips to his mouth.

"Good?" he says, lapping at her in a long, languid stroke.

"Yes," she says. "And you?"

He laps again, the tip of his tongue finding her clit. Her body shudders delightfully in response. "It tastes a little funny, like shaving cream," he confesses with a laugh and another long lick.

She giggles and runs her hand through his hair as he continues running his tongue over her. Her hips move to his rhythm, rocking against his mouth. "Stop, if you want," she says, though she doesn't mean it. She wouldn't let him if he tried.

"Mmmm mmmm," comes his negative murmur against her flesh. He starts working her most sensitive spot harder with his tongue, circling, flicking, and causing her to writhe and arch her back as she feels waves of warm pleasure slowly building.

"Yeah," she breathes, "Oh, yes, like that," and he's doing something wicked with his tongue, incredibly, inexplicably wicked, "please, yes, yeah..."

She tilts her head back and lets him take her over, slowly guiding her to freefall. She feels it spark through her body with one last flutter of his tongue and she clutches at his hair, whimpering several times as she comes.

She doesn't open her eyes until she can feel him hovering over her body, can smell the soft scent of her on his skin. She tilts her head up and he kisses her lips, gently at first. She runs her tongue along his bottom lip, tasting herself, and slips it inside his mouth to seek more.

He settles between her legs so easily, so perfectly. It shouldn't be so surprising that they fit together so well. She runs her fingernails down his back.

x x x x

Laura's body feels amazing pressed against his, soft in some places, hard in others, her hipbones pressing into his as she wraps her legs around his waist, inviting him in as she explores his mouth with her tongue, gently, easily.

They break their kiss as he nudges inside of her, just a bit at first. He sees her eyes widen slightly, sees a faint wave of uncertainty pass over her face. He kisses the tip of her nose and holds back.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, looking into her eyes.

She smiles, pushing her forehead against his playfully. "Yes. Thank you for asking."

"Shall we continue, Madam President?" he whispers, kissing her hairline, her cheek, her neck.

"You have my explicit permission to do so," she says with a giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He slides inside her and he moves his mouth over hers, lips barely touching as they breathe together, slowly joining. She envelops him with warmth and he sighs deeply at the immediate comfort it brings. She pushes her hips up against him and he responds with a stroke into her, their bodies meeting gently.

"Good Gods," she breathes against his mouth. "Bill."

He kisses her jaw and they begin to move together, a little erratic, a little out of sync at first. It's been a long time since he's frakked someone, not to mention someone on a sofa.

"Yeah," she whispers, and he loves these affirmative statements she makes during sex, like she's signing an order for him to continue.

"Yeah?" he asks, kissing her as his strokes increase in speed. Yes, it's been a long time since he's frakked someone, and this is how he justifies his sudden realization that he is going to come fairly soon. He makes the best out of the time--her tongue invites his into her mouth and he follows, his hands buried in her hair as he thrusts faster, more intently.

Her hips meet his rhythm at last and they both moan out of their kiss, which makes her giggle breathlessly.

"Come on," she says, her eyes slightly mischievous. She twists her hips and he feels a different kind of friction and she keeps him there, her fingernails digging into his back.

"You want me to?" he asks, wondering for a split second if she'll say "no."

"Yes, please," she answers with a curt thrust of her hips upward.

He buries his face in her neck and fraks her harder, feeling the soft, cool skin meeting his own where they're joined, and is reminded of what he did only moments earlier, and something about thinking about the razor and her legs on his counter and tasting her for the first time, combined with the squeeze of her muscles around him, makes him come, his eyes squeezing shut against her hair.

x x x x

Bill is adorable when he comes. He makes this sound like a low growly grunt that she secretly adds to her list of her favorite things about him. His breath on her neck is shallow and hot and she scrapes her fingernails across his shoulder blades, making him shiver.

She smiles, dragging her fingers up to the back of his head, holding him against her neck. "How are you?" she asks, still squeezing around his cock, teasing him.

"Uhhhh," he answers.

"Oh, Gods, Bill," she says, kissing his ear. "That good, huh?"

"Sweet asses of Kobol," he says, his body lodging against hers more snugly. She laughs, and keeps laughing, as her calves slip down the back of his legs and she lets her body relax underneath his.

She likes this feeling--stuck together, bound together in an afterglow. She feels his breathing start to slow against her body and she strokes his hair.

"Don't fall asleep," she says.

"I won't," he says, though he sounds groggy. It makes her smile.

"Bill?" she asks, leaning her cheek against the side of his head. She can feel him kissing her neck through her hair.

"Mmmm?"

"Thank you for letting me use your razor," she says, closing her eyes.

-end-


End file.
